A Little Fall of Rain
by Merida's Hair
Summary: The final battle is over, but no has has won. Least of all Regina Mills and Snow White. Endgame. Two-shot.


Someone once told Snow, (perhaps a guard, perhaps a tutor, she'd never remember for sure except for the determined expression in his eyes), that the final seconds of a battle were something almost majestic and a beauty of itself to be seen.

As Cora crumpled over, suddenly vulnerable for the first time perhaps in her life, deep red spilling from the dark fabrics of her dress onto the chilled grass below, the remains of the magic swirling over her plaid skin; there was nothing beautiful about it. Nothing glorious, no fanfare. Just the remains of a dark shadow over her life since childhood, recoiling back to oblivion. Just the gasping breaths of the woman left alive from the exchange, but now hosting a vicious burn deep in her gut. The grass around them had browned and crunched like snapping bones under their feet and the sky was a bleak white. The mist was suffocating instead of refreshing and Snow might've even taken it for smoke in a guise.

Two figures across from each other; mother and daughter. Dark souls manipulated and pushed and pulled, and a broken heart crying out for some sort of mercy from the lack of relief for so may years, to be let go, and Snow could have only watched helplessly as a confrontation years in the making took place right in front of her.

She stood there for a moment, her bow hanging limply from her grasp. Breaths coming out ragged and uneven. There was no one around, no one to witness the end of things. Once again Snow White was left as the solitary witness to Regina Mills's miserable life, the only one with insight into the woman who had haunted her and hated her so much. And who'd saved her life _again_. Was it a strange mercy or a cruel twist of fate?

Although she wasn't naive enough to think saving her life had been on Regina's mind at all as she took down her childhood nightmare. The others were off, her daughter and husband included, fighting the ogres and other beasts Cora had summoned through her own self-made portal from The Enchanted Forest.

Another ragged breath and Snow is brought back. She crouches down, hovering with trepidation over Regina's prone form. Except for her shorn hair, she looks for all the world the picture of malice she had back in their own world; the forest, the dark lace, her blood red lips and corset. Except for the expression on her face; her eyes looking at the sky, past Snow, in wonder. Relief.

_"She's gone."_ Regina's voice is just so slightly high pitched, reminding Snow so vividly of the woman who pleaded with her and taught her about true love.

"Yes, she is." Snow replies, ever the bit entranced.

All at once the wonder drops from Regina's face like a slate, the darks of her eyes seemed to take over, and her mouth curls into that ever familiar smirk for just a moment before she grimaces. With a grunt of pain she begins to heave herself off the ground, fingers grasping the dried and scorched grass. Snow debates helping her, but her hands stay on her knees, and her feet stay rooted on the ground. The last time they were left alone together Snow had ended up with a dagger in her gut, after all.

But that was so, so long ago. And so much _has_ changed. Whether Snow wants to admit it or not, finding Archie very much alive in the hull of Hook's ship had proven this to her once and for all. Even_ before_ Regina had jumped in front of her to face down her own mother. She watches Regina try to stay upright, sweat dripping down her brow from the exertion. A hand then gently presses on her stomach and she gives a loud groan of pain. She loses her grip once and for all, and an instinct kicks in because Snow never really could see her in pain and she swoops down, catching Regina's arms and waist before her head hits the grass.

"Let _go _of me!" Regina rasps, trying to twist away with fail as she hisses in pain once more. Blood starts to spread from the scorch marks, dripping slowly but surely from the wounds. Snow keeps her grip firm, and finds words hard to leave the lump in her throat.

"You…changed your mind. You turned against her." Snow whispers, her eyes flickering in her own wonder at Cora's body.

Regina slumps a bit forward, however her body is still as rigid as a board. Snow spies more blood beginning to spill more from her middle, and her heart constricts before she can stop it. Regina would bleed out soon if she didn't get help. Snow suddenly wonders why a battle won felt such a loss. Nothing majestic, no climactic moment where the crowd cheers and the enemy is vanquished. Just a lonely field with lonely people. A loss of time, a loss of chances. Would healing, true healing, not just sutures tied with flimsy straw, even be possible anymore?

A thought occurred to her and she spoke aloud before thinking on it."Do you have healing magic left? Could you heal yourself?"

Regina chuckled darkly before dissolving into wracking coughs. Snow held her as steady as she could.

"I'm afraid that killing _my mother_ left me spent." She turned her gaze to Snow, unflinching.

"You've won, Snow White. Now take your winnings_ and leave me be_. Go back to your precious family and celebrate." Although her words had a bite, it was one significantly smaller than years past. As if Regina were forcing the words out, putting as much malice as she could when her heart just wasn't interested in hate. Snow felt the world flip side. Perhaps Regina just wanted peace. For once. And in their relationship, peace was hardly a given. But peace in death? _No._ Snow White would prove her stubbornness yet. Regardless of the fact that time was ticking and no one was coming.

"I don't understand." She snapped.

Regina laughs again. "You never did."

"That's not what I! …You never…" She trailed off, not being able and not really wanting to put her feelings about never being told the true nature of Daniel's death and her involvement, and where that blame should have lied. That was a scab that was picked daily, and today she didn't want to partake in it.

"I meant." She said with a slight huff. "You attacked her, _you_ were the one who ended this battle. You re-joined our side. If only at the end." She suddenly felt very weary. In another world, another reality perhaps she could have re-joined sooner. But anger, her own anger, prevented that. And rightly so, she still thought. Regina wasn't willing to change before, why should they believe she could now? Snow wasn't perfect. She never claimed to be.

She just wished she could see the truth _sooner. _Fully seen the way Regina was with Henry, with_…Emma._ Archie even. However obscure those truths still were, although the cobwebs were now being brushed away.

Regina glances at her mother's corpse with something that looks like both regret _and_ relief, as if a facial expression such as that could be made.

"I did what had to be done." She had more to say on this matter in the way she twisted her lip and the way her eyes became glassy, but Snow knew she wouldn't be the one Regina would tell, if anyone at all.

Emma should be here, a traitorous and horrified voice said in the back of her brain. _Emma should be here._

"And I didn't _join _your side. I'm _evil._" She spits the word. "Vile, awful, whatever words you can come up with. No matter my choices at any time, I will _always_ be that way. Correct?" Her eyes look sad, just her eyes, just in the contours, in the glimmers. "Your daughter kindly reminded me of that." She near whispers.

Snow almost opens her mouth to speak of the relief in Emma's eyes when Archie was found. The all-encompassing relief that someone she believed in, and dare Snow even say it, (her stomach made flips at the thought) even…_cared_ for, was in fact changing. Had in fact been changing. And then the horrified expression that followed. She hadn't followed her instincts. She'd missed her chance. And Snow empathized with her so keenly that she hadn't been able to speak, just hug her daughter whom she'd only known for so little and wasn't quite sure how to mother.

But she doesn't tell her. Not yet.

Regina looks away from Snow and her voice is ragged when she once again is able to speak.

"So don't try your righteous bullshit with me. Not again."

Snow opens her mouth to respond when a huge clack of thunder resounds through the open field. She looked up, seeing the grey clouds formed above their heads. When had the sky begun to darken? It would rain any moment now, and whatever Snow's feelings towards her once stepmother are right now, they need to be well out of it for anything to be done. She glanced around them and made the decision to try to support Regina to one of the trees on the outskirts of the forest.

She ignored the comment for now, let the hurt slide away, and stood up.

"Come on. It's going to rain, and it's better if we're not in it. Just…I'll help you up and over to the oak tree across the field." She said, not quite sure what tone she was going for. Something between school-teacher firmness, caution, and sincerity.

Regina glanced at her with that smirk again. "Oh don't you fret." She mocks, but again, her heart isn't into it. She just can't help biting words at Snow, could she?

Snow ignores her as she gently starts to help lift Regina from the scorched grass. Regina used her hands to brace her, and with effort and grumbles from both parties, Regina is walking and heavily leaning against Snow. Her breath is hot and so very shallow on Snow's neck. Her chest is heaving. Her stomach is bleeding even more, the red hitting the grass with vigor. They take cautious steps towards the trees, but brisk ones. Regina's breath is near a wheeze as they walk.

They're halfway there before Regina decides to speak again, her voice as bitter as a root, but oddly soft, under her breath, and with a scratch in her throat that was a tell-tale sign of tears welling up.

"After all…a little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now."

Snow pretends not to hear this, because tears start welling up too with a tightening of her throat.

As she settles Regina against the tree, Regina muttering to herself the whole time and making small groans as her burns are aggravated, Cora's corpse becomes a tiny speck in the distance. Finally unable to reach them and destroy them with her notions of what love meant.

As Regina is finally reclining in a half-comfortable position with more wracking coughs, Snow slides down next to her and puts her bow down.

To Snow's surprise, Regina is the one to speak first.

"I am…glad Archie is alive." Her eyes are closed, and her voice is soft and Snow wonders if she's even talking to her or just simply talking in order to prove she still can. Her breaths are labored and slow, and her hand is resting lightly on her burns. Blood is dotting her fingertips, and that's when Snow remembers a very crucial fact.

"I have balm! Wound balm. It doesn't…heal. But it could help with the pain?" She's aware of her own wavering voice, how a lump has lodged seemingly permanently in her throat. Tears have built up, but she refuses to cry in front of Regina. She refused that a long time ago, and tried her hardest to keep that promise to herself. Seeing Regina in pain, however, _unnecessary and cruel pain_, it brought back flashes to Regina sitting on her bed in the palace, her arms wrapped around herself and a bruise on her side. Snow asking naively if she had fallen horseback riding. Regina looking at her incredulously before forcing on a mask of care and kindness and responded that she had, she would be more careful in the future. Snow believing her, even when her instincts cried out in fear.

Regina's looking at her now with that same expression. Her eyes are half-lidded, and her lips aren't set in that same harsh line as she grimaces in pain, but she looks at Snow as if she were still that selfish twelve year old who told a secret when it was of the upmost importance that she didn't. It's how she's always looked at Snow, since Daniel's heart was ripped from his chest cavity. It should only be right, that she look at her like this even as her body loses strength.

She purses her lips and breaks the eye contact. "That won't be necessary, I'm afraid." She smiles again, cruelly. Full of longing and fear and a just a hint of relief.

"I'm not long for this world. I feel…my magic draining away. Leaving me as empty as I truly feel." She looks at Snow again.

"Tell me,_ dear_, do you think love could save me even now?"

Snow doesn't know what to believe. She gets the balm anyway, and pretends, for Regina's sake, that she doesn't see the small relief on her face as the pain fades slightly away and the blood stops it's slow trickle.

There's nothing else Snow can do. She could find the appropriate leaves and herbs from the wood and make something to soothe even more, but the wounds were too deep. They needed a hospital, an operation room, and the world was just so far, _far _away.

As Regina closes her eyes again, Snow grabs her bow then and inspects the wood, trailing her fingers down it's glossy finish. She feels fidgety and helpless. Everyone that could possibly be of help were too far away. By the time Snow ran to them and back, Regina could-

No, Regina shouldn't have to…die alone. Even if Snow may not be her first choice in people.

She shuts her eyes against the possibility. How is it that the thought of Regina's death made her stomach plummet so? With all that happened since she was saved from a spooked horse?

She edges ever so slightly closer to her prone figure. The words build up in her throat. Words she should have said years ago. Perhaps with the hope of apologies back. What could she truly say, though? The apologies on both ends would take years and years to fully say and they would mean nothing against the weight of their actions. She doubted Regina would give her one, anyway, and as much as Snow wanted to plead forgiveness for the guilt buried deep within her gut, the words wouldn't leave her mouth either. She remembers Charming's blood on her hands, her baby ripped from her arms, and the woman cackling and teeming with madness as all of their lives faded away into stars.

Forgiveness seemed impossible. On both ends. Snow would try, however. If it's the last thing she'd do, she'd _try._ For both their sakes.

Perhaps just _being_ there and listening was a start.

She didn't want to think about how the process needed to speed up, lest time be lost forever. She couldn't think about that. Her body ached, and her soul was tired, and her long-time enemy and stepmother was dying at her feet.


End file.
